


The Circle

by Joshuargon



Series: Mage of the Grey [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joshuargon/pseuds/Joshuargon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the beginning of the Grey Mage's story.  The young years and how he ended up taking some of the courses in life he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Circle

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is fine, but please be aware this is an "Origin Story", which traditionally can get a bit errr bad. I will give warning and up the archive warnings when things go bad, just so you are aware.

7:36 Storm

Slate-Water.  No one really knew why the village was called Slate-Water.  The village’s income came from a mine that only produced Iron, although a small vein of Silverite had been found which everyone hoped would lead to healthy (and valuable) seam.  The closest water was a small stream more than 3 miles away.  Most of those too young to work in the mine were expected to take buckets to the stream every morning and bring water for the miners. 

If you asked any resident, they would concede that life was simple here, but it was honest.  Up north there were wars, and Exalted Marches against these Qunari, whatever they were.  Down here things were much simpler and calmer.  Slate-Water had a little corner of the world, the small village nestled into the base of the Frostbacks.  Miners to dig up iron to sell, farmers looking after fields and livestock to handle food.  They even had a small stone chantry where Sisters Elthea and Janette helped teach the children and treat those who got hurt in the mine. 

There was nothing really special about Slate-Water, and if you asked the residents, they would say that’s the best thing about it.  It was just Home. 

Clare and Malcolm definitely held that view.  Every day Malcolm would get up, scrub himself down, kiss his wife and son, then set off to the mine chatting with Ed or Den on the way.   Clare would get her son up, give him something to eat, then when next door’s lad Alex came by he would go with young Martin to the stream with everyone else around their ages.  Alex was a few years older than Martin who was just over 6, he couldn’t carry much weight at this point, but neither could most kids his age.  The point was to try, to contribute, and as you grow up, get stronger. 

The trips to the stream were generally full of games, they were all children after all.  And it wasn’t unheard of for some of the elder boys and girls to disappear of by themselves.  Quite a few marriages in Slate-Water had started in this way. 

The trip back however, there were no games.  The job was simple and important, get this water to the mine and village without losing too much.  They would generally have to make 2 or 3 trips in the morning with a few others later in the day sometimes.  Children may be Children, but there was something satisfying in knowing that they whole village is depending on you to bring this water, and then when you delver it safe and sound, there is no denying that you feel an essential part of the workings of Slate-Water. 

After they had done their deliveries the younger children would head off to the chantry, they would learn their lessons from the Sisters and some of the men and women from the village who helped with lessons now and then.  They would say their prayers and sing a few verses of the chant.  The elder boys and girls would after seeing the younger children safely to the chantry head off to their various apprenticeships or chores. 

By the time Martin was home, sometimes brought by Alex, sometimes by his mother who occasionally helped with lessons, most of the difficult daily chores would have already been done by Clare.  They would have a small meal mother and son, Martin would help Clare to clean up after the meal, tend the goat and chickens, and explain all of the things he had learned that day.  As well as help with any other tasks that an eager 6 year old could help with.

Just before sundown Malcolm would be back, before even entering the house he would wash himself with the water bucket placed in the yard to ensure any mess from the mine was gone.  He would then enter, kiss Clare and Martin, they would then all sit down for a meal and talk about their day.  Martin would then be sent to bed with story, after which some nights Clare or Malcolm would go for a drink at the tavern or just stay in. 

This was a common schedule for the people of Slate-Water, simple sure, but honest and theirs. 

***

The 13th of Bloomingtide 7:36 Storm, was one of the worst days of Clare’s life.  The day had started out normally.  Malcolm going off to the mine, Alex taking Martin to the stream for the day’s trip for water.  When they had come back Clare had helped with lessons at the chantry.  She had always been good with numbers and was privately proud to pass on a few thinking tricks that helped work out the answers to problems that she had learned as a girl.  She walked back home with Alex and Martin happily gabbling beside her, after seeing Alex back to his home she and Martin went into their own house. 

After having a bite to eat, they cleaned up, mucked out and fed the goat and chickens.  Mended a tunic for Malcolm, washed their clothes and worked in the vegetable patch.  Clare asked Martin more questions about the number problems they had worked on today with him getting most of them right on the first try.  After cleaning themselves off they headed back inside, as the day had developed a chill, this was Ferelden after all, Clare told Martin to lay the fire while she got things ready for the evening meal.  Martin wasn’t allowed to light the fire, but the act of building it kept him busy for a little while.  Snapping small pieces of wood and laying them in a ## pattern in the fire, placing logs on top, balanced so as not to disturb the structure beneath it.  The careful building was enjoyable for the little boy. 

It was laughter and crackling that caused Clare to spin around from her work on vegetables for that night’s meal.  There was nothing wrong with laugher, but the crackling could only mean a fire.  As she rushed to Martin she saw that the fire in the grate was crackling merrily with Martin kneeling in front giggling with what seemed delight.  Clare frantically looked for the flint used to start the fire but she saw that it was where it should have been, on a shelf above the fire well out of Martins reach.  But upon looking down at Martin her blood turned to ice.

Martin was sitting in front of the fireplace, with his hand on fire.  He was not screaming in pain, he was laughing.  In the moment she stood frozen she saw Martin bring his hands together then pull them apart.  The fire was now burning from the other palm, with the one the fire had just left having no mark on it. 

“Martin!” Clare shrieked.

Martin jumped at her voice and his face jerked up to look at her.  “Mummy look I, aaaah!”  Martin jumped again, this time with a shout of pain.  Shaking his hand fast the fire went out but Clare caught a whiff of a burn.  She quickly scooped Martin up and held him close.  Carrying him over to the kitchen table she grabbed a mug from a cupboard and filled it with water.  She told Martin to put his hand in the mug.  As he did so she put her hand in the water too, cupping his hand with her own looking at the red marks on his hand the fire had left. 

Clare couldn’t think, she didn’t want to think.  For what seemed hours she just sat on the kitchen table, Martin in her lap, her arms around her son, doing everything in her power not to think. 

The sound of the door opening caused her to jump and spin around holding Martin close to her chest.  She saw Malcolm standing in the door way, dimply she became aware that something was different.  It was too early, the light was nowhere near as dark as it normally was when he came home, Malcolm was also still dirty, he hadn’t washed before coming in the house.  These simple things terrified Clare, all she could think was that he somehow knew what she had just seen, or someone else had and run to tell him. 

As Malcolm walked into the room he did seem distracted, as he looked up at Clare holding Martin he seemed taken aback.  “Clare what’s wrong?”

Clare realised that she had been shielding Martin as if there was an intruder in the house.  She forced herself to relax and put Martins feet back on the ground.  He was still holding his hand in the mug of water though he had long since stopped whimpering from the pain.  “Nothing nothing, just startled luv,” she looked down at Martin taking his hand out of the mug, there were still marks on his hand but the cold water had prevented it getting worse.  “Martin burned his hand in the fireplace and was seeing to it, got startled when you walked in.”  She brushed the dark hair out of her face to try and cover her flush. 

Malcolm seemed to accept this and immediately turned his attention to his son, as he walked up to him he held out a hand to take a look at Martins arm then froze.  Malcolm had just noticed that he was still covered in grim from the mine.  Taking a step back he ran his eyes over the mess he was in, murmuring apologies to his wife he quickly stumbled out the back door.  Changing out of his soiled clothes he scrubbed himself down vigorously.  The repetitive action had a calming effect on Malcolm, he was still worried about what had happened that day but the familiar motions helped him to relax.  Pulling on the clean clothes he stepped back inside to find Martin curled up in a chair with Clare concentrating on cutting vegetables for dinner. 

Pausing only to glance at the fire and throw a log on the dimming embers he walked over to his son.  “Let’s have a look lad.”

Martin showed his father his hand, Malcolm took the hand checking the red marks on it.  “Mum got it cooled down quick?” Martin nodded.  “Good, now lad you have to remember that the fire is dangerous, you shouldn’t play with it.”  Martin nodded again eyes going to the floor.  “Good lad,” Malcolm placed a kiss on his son forehead then stood and turned to his wife. 

Clare had paused in her chopping and if Malcolm has been paying more attention he would have noticed that she had stopped breathing.  Malcolm glanced at his son to see that he wasn’t paying them any mind, he walked up to his wife and put an arm around her.  “Something happened today,” he murmured to her. 

Clare turned her head to her husband forcing herself to break slowly.  “There was a collapse in the mine,” at his words Clare felt relief flood through her, immediately followed by guilt at the feeling.  A collapse could be disastrous and she had no idea who could have been hurt.  Some accident in the mine easily explained why Malcolm had come home early.  She also reasoned that if someone was trapped Malcolm wouldn’t have left as they would have needed all the help possible to get to the trapped miners before they suffocated. 

“We were pushing along a new tunnel when we started to feel the ground move.  We heard Tanner shout before we saw him drop.  He had fallen down a hole where the ground gave way.  We were able to get him back out, he’s shaken o’course but everything’s where it should be, thank the Maker.  Just a few cuts n bruises.”

Clare guided Malcolm to a seat by the fire forcing a fresh mug of water into his hands.  “Does Gabby know?”

“She should know by now, Michel and Theon helped him back home.”  Malcolm sighed.

“Well it could have been much worse,” Clare said reassuringly. 

“Mmm, just thinkin, we thought he fell into an air pocket, a little gap that we dug too close to, that happens, thank the maker but we normally don’t dig on top of them, today was bad luck.”  Malcolm took a steadying drink from his mug.  “But it wasn’t a pocket, when we had a look it was another tunnel.  Master Rand is having a look through the old mining records, it might be an old tunnel that was closed off and we have just crossed over again.  He reckons it may take some time to work out.  Says we should continue with the other tunnels but only a few should be down that one, with two tunnels so close too much work near them could be dangerous.”

Clare nodded agreement, “Know where you’ll be working?” she asked causally, rising to finish preparing the meal. 

Husbandly instinct made it clear to Malcolm that it was important to be careful with his answer, “Oh a few different places as usual, hoping to concentrate on the new tunnel with the Silverite, need to know if we are in the money as soon as possible.”

Clare made a non-committal “Hmm,” in response to Malcolm’s answer. 

Malcolm turned to his wife and asked, “Anyways, how was your day?”


End file.
